


A Necessary End

by 796116311389



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Coming Untouched, Dubious Consent, How the fuck do I tag for 'grows a womb and vagina'???, Insecure Sherlock Holmes, Intersex Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Mpreg, Other, Pregnancy, Sort Of, Swelling, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unrealistic Birth, Unrealistic pregancy too tbh, almost masturbation, erotic birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24394333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/796116311389/pseuds/796116311389
Summary: He's a man of science and here he is stirring what basically amounts to a potion. But it's a necessary evil. He couldn't find what he needed elsewhere. Every lab or research facility he called (and there weren't many to begin with) who were studying male pregnancy gave him the same disappointing answer.It's all theoretical at this point.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 86





	A Necessary End

**Author's Note:**

> Asdfghjkl let me know if I missed a tag

Sherlock looks to the stock pot before him. It steams with a roiling boil. 

It had taken him weeks to gather all the ingredients, but he's finally done it. 

Again he's plagued with a feeling of...stupidity? Silliness? Guilt? 

He's a man of science and here he is stirring what basically amounts to a potion. But it's a necessary evil. He couldn't find what he needed elsewhere. Every lab or research facility he called (and there weren't many to begin with) who were studying male pregnancy gave him the same disappointing answer. 

_It's all theoretical at this point._

Theoretical didn't help Sherlock. 

Theoretical wouldn't keep John by his side. 

Because it would happen. John would want kids and he would leave Sherlock to have them. So the solution was obvious, Sherlock needed to find some way to have John's child. Adoption was out as there was no way any government agency wouldn't be appalled by their life and its constant dangers. 

Sherlock stirs the pot. The room is filled with a scent similar to cherries, but somehow sweeter and more delicate. 

He's desperate and the feeling wars with his embarrassment for even attempting this. But he's willing to do anything to make sure John never leaves him. 

He knows John has his heart and, true, John has said he doesn't need kids to be happy with him; that he loves Sherlock. But the thought eats away at him nonetheless because before they became a couple, kids were definitely part of John's ideal future. 

He looks over the medieval text again. While the 'recipe' doesn't specify it specifically will make a man capable of carrying a child, it does explain that it can be used to help a woman who has been 'severely damaged' regrow the necessary equipment to carry one. So. _Theoretically_ why shouldn't it help _Sherlock_ grow the necessary equipment?

The text is unfortunately obscured by dark stains where it explains how he's supposed to consume this 'potion', but after that it explains that it's a one time medicine and the woman is guaranteed to have a child. Presumably he just has to drink some or, god forbid, all of the concoction he's just made and _bam_ \- he'll be able to have John's child. He's not sure how he'll explain his sudden ability to conceive a child, but he's also not even sure this'll work so, whatever.

He looks into the sweet-smelling murky soup and grimaces at the idea of drinking it. While it smells nice, it does consist of other _lovely_ ingredients such as a particular fungus, rust, and the blood of a pure man -John, of course- and Sherlock doesn't quite feel that's wise to be consuming. But, needs must. 

The concoction has been at a roiling boil for 17 minutes and it's now time to add the final ingredient. He double checks he's done everything accordingly and prepares to add it, which, as silly as it seems, is the breath of a virgin, which was the easiest ingredient to get- his breath. He's never been more thankful for his past self's disinterest and, currently, John's insistence they take things slow. 

He takes a deep breath over the pot, inhaling its sweet cherry scent and exhales fully into the murky pot. Immediately, it changes to a dark black colour and stops boiling. 

The sudden change startles Sherlock and he jerks back from the pot and then curses under his breath as he guesses the flame must have blown out under the pot. 

He bends over to check and then keeps going until he's doubled over as a tight painful cramp grabs him in his abdomen. He had appendicitis once and the blinding pain is very nearly similar. He lets out a strangled cry and sinks to the kitchen floor. 

He's on his knees hunched over grabbing his middle, his head pressed into the floor. He's panting hard as he feels a weird squirming in his abdomen that makes him nauseous. The squirming subsides into a dull tightness and he collapses onto his side on the floor, breathing hard. After a few moments he collects himself and leans against the cabinets. 

A shiver runs down his spine and a heady heat centres in his abdomen as a spark of arousal goes through his groin. He has an intense urge to rub himself and the tightness of his abdomen turns into a soft fluttering squirming feeling again. He looks down his body and sees his cock thicken in his trousers. He's so unbelievably horny. He starts to stroke himself through his trousers when he feels another weird sensation and stares down at himself as he feels his abdomen begin to slowly swell. 

He's still in too much shock to realize he needs to undo his trousers and instead he just stares dumbstruck as his gently swelling abdomen stretches and then bursts the buttons on his trousers and then his shirt. His shirt gently flutters to his side after the buttons pop off and his legs are forced apart to accommodate his growing belly. 

Distantly, he realizes he's panting again, both in arousal and from the physical exertion of the changes he's going through. He rests a hand on the outermost portion of his belly and takes a quick breath at the shock of pleasure. The skin is hypersensitive. He can feel it still gently stretching slowly. He feels an odd pickling sensation in his nipples and swipes his hands up his belly and to his chest. He moans and stares in fascination as he feels a rush and then his chest is swelling into his hands until he's holding palmfuls of tender flesh which he can't help squeezing and which begin leaking thick milk as he does. 

He looks back down to his belly and rubs at his belly button which has popped out from lack of space. He touches and flicks it and feels his cock give a thick throb of arousal at the sensation. He lets one hand play with a nipple, pulling and squeezing it and uses his other hand to play with his belly button. 

It's not enough to make him come but it is a beautiful sensation of teased arousal, like scratching an itch. He moans again, this time at the sight of his body. He hadn't known what that concoction would do, if anything, but this is beyond anything he thought possible. He, a man, is very much pregnant and ready to burst with a _child_. 

He can feel the swelling of his belly has stopped and he feels the sensation of a baby moving inside him. He rubs at his taut belly and then moves his hand lower until he can shove his trousers and pants down and grasp his cock. He gives a few strong tugs and then slides his hand lower, but startles with the shock of what he finds. Distracted by all the other sensations of his body he hadn't felt the very distinct change to his anatomy. Behind his cock and balls is a new opening into his body. He sticks his hand back down and wishes he could see the new change to himself but exhausted and aroused as he is he can hardly stand to find a mirror; an exploration by touch will have to suffice for now. 

He feels (both with his fingers and with the skin being stroked, which is an odd but not unpleasant sensation) the new soft moist folds of skin. He can feel himself dripping. He smears his fingers around and gathers some up so he can bring it up to his face. It's clear and slightly viscous, with a musky scent. 

He hasn't stopped shifting on the floor against the cabinets, his whole body like an electric wire, every touch and sensation lighting him up. In a matter of minutes his whole body and his whole world have changed. He looks down at himself and, while women have never been his thing, the sight of his own body full of life and ready to nourish has him thrumming with arousal. His belly is humongous and webbed with stretch marks, the same as his breasts which sag to either side of his belly, still leaking milk. 

He feels his stomach flip and watches as his belly drops. There's a sudden insistent pressure inside him pushing at his insides, almost like he has to pee. Then his belly tightens and the pain is shocking but it passes, for the moment. 

His baby is coming. 

He kicks his pants and trousers the rest of the way off as another contraction hits and it's like his body has jumpstarted. They come one on top of another. His body is wet with sweat and then he feels something inside him burst and fluid comes gushing out of him.

He can feel the baby moving through him. An odd sensation that quickly becomes overwhelmingly pleasurable as the baby seems to be pressing against his prostate as it makes its steady way out of him. He writhes on the floor and sinks to his back. He hikes his legs up and starts bearing down. For as quickly as everything else has happened it feels as if this, the birth itself, is happening in agonizing slowness. He's sweating and panting with the exertion and the unending stimulation. 

He feels a tight stretching sensation and sticks his hand down between his legs to his new opening and can feel himself stretching wide over what can only be the baby's head, hot and wet. He feels it's sparse hairs as his body works to expel the life inside of him. He bears down in time with the contractions, his body working almost on autopilot; his control of himself surprisingly thin. He feels as the head bursts out of him with a small gush of fluid and then cries out as the baby's shoulders bully their way out next. They stretch him impossibly wide, one caught just inside of him digging into his sweet spot. He howls as he orgasms and the force of his pleasure squeezes the child's shoulders out of him and the rest of it slides gracefully from his body. 

He pants on the floor for a moment and then struggles up onto his elbows to look past his still considerably rounded belly, to the baby on the floor. It's moving gently, its body covered in blood and birth detritus. Sherlock angles himself for a better view and realizes it's a boy. He's just given birth to a baby boy. 

He starts to reach for his baby when he gives a small cry as he feels a second birth begin to unfold. He's stunned as he realizes as he's giving birth to twins. He's having a second baby right here, right now. He feels it move down and through him, the sensation no less odd then it was with the first one. 

In a matter of moments he can feel it begin to spread him open. This baby must be larger than his first was because despite his already stretched body, he can feel his body struggling to stretch around it. He bears down hard but it feels like the baby is barely moving out of him. The baby is digging into what feels like every sensitive spot inside of him to the point where he can't resolve the pleasurable sparks through his body and it feels almost like pain. 

He's wants the baby out of him, so he rolls onto his front onto his hands and knees. His legs are spread and he pushes himself into squatting position. The change is nearly immediate as gravity begins to help. The baby presses hard against his opening and begins to finally slip out. Sherlock bears down as hard as he can and begins to stroke his renewed erection, hoping an orgasm will help as it did with the first one. 

He strokes himself and uses his other hand to stimulate his belly and nipples; it seems to work as he experiences what feels like an orgasm, but is much more powerful and centered around his new opening, but he doesn't ejaculate. The force of it has him squeezing his eyes shut and shouting which turns into a cry of relief as the baby's head slips out of him. 

Between gravity and his contractions the shoulders pose no issue and quickly follow the baby's head out of him and he places his hands beneath himself to catch his second child. 

He pulls it out of him and up into his arms and realizes his second child is a baby girl. He's just given birth to a baby boy and a baby girl. 

He sits down on the floor, which is covered in a bloody wash. He grabs his son too and leans back against the cabinets cradling them both. They're quiet and soft, wrinkly and ugly, but in a way that's beautiful to him. They begin to mouth at his skin and he gently guides a nipple into each one's mouth.

He gives a sigh. He's exhausted, but feels his body give a final few pushes to expel the afterbirth. He needs to cut their umbilical cords, but he can do that in a moment. 

For now, he revels in the fact that he's both a mother and father.

**Author's Note:**

> Asdfghjkl just so we're clear I'm absolutely mortified I wrote this but also so happy.


End file.
